


Spider Dance

by Syntaxeme



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Dancing, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sex Worker Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Spider Dance AU, Spider!Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: [AU based on @lena_vickx's art on Twitter of Alastor as a spider demon~]Alastor is smitten with the unusual pink spider he meets through his work at the hotel, but considering he's never been in a position like this before, he's not quite sure of how to say it. He hopes a courtship dance might help break the ice--but unfortunately, Angel Dust isn't exactly used to being 'courted,' and it's possible he's not even interested in the idea. If that's the case, Alastor's feelings might have to stay in the dark forever.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 92





	Spider Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone! I have a little treat for you here...or is it a trick? I'll let you decide. 😉 Thanks again to Lena for [the existence of spider!Alastor](https://twitter.com/lena_vickx/status/1322138793927954432?s=20) and letting me write him! I love this ridiculous poetic lovesick boy so much. 😭

Alastor was surprised, first, to find another spider at the hotel. More to the point, he was surprised to find one so gorgeous, so utterly arresting. He’d never had many particular feelings about female spiders in the past, having come across quite a few of them over the years, but this one—a man? a woman? it was all but impossible to tell, yet they were beautiful regardless—caught his eye immediately on his entry; it was all he could do to keep his attention on Lucifer’s daughter for long enough to win her trust, then he immediately turned his eyes toward that vision of a creature sitting calmly at the bar and watching him, unblinking, still and statuesque.

“And what do you do, ma belle chère?” he purred.

The pink spider(ette?) gave him a once-over and answered without missing a beat: “I can suck ya dick.”

His heart nearly stopped as he choked out a laugh. Was this a joke? Was it flirtation? Was it a genuine offer? He had no idea! Furthermore, was it safe to let a female spider put any part of him in her mouth? So much of this was so very dangerous he hardly knew how to respond. Just managing to keep his smile in place, he responded, “Another time, perhaps.”

This spider, he later learned, was named Angel Dust, and this sort of offer was one he—yes, _he_ —would give to any man he thought might pay him for the act. But if he was so willing to take on any suitor who presented himself, if he was available to any man who was willing to pay for his company, how on Earth was Alastor to win his undivided attention?

And he wanted exactly that, he was surprised to find. It was almost frustrating how thoroughly that fluffy arachnid had captured his interest. In most cases, he didn’t care for people who were so overtly sexual in their demeanor—but the longer they spent working together in the hotel, the more he realized that was only one facet of the person Angel was. When teased, he was ready with a smirk and a laugh; when challenged, he didn’t hesitate to respond; when insulted, he had a temper like a summer storm, fast and hot and violent. And with every aspect Alastor saw, he was only further enthralled.

For a while, he tried to be subtle about his intentions, approaching Angel only when casual circumstance allowed it, trying to make conversation and invariably freezing up whenever he playfully broached the subject of sex. It wasn’t something Alastor had a great deal of experience with for several reasons, yet it seemed like Angel was far more interested in that than in actual courtship. That made things a bit more complicated, but Alastor absolutely refused to give up; Angel was the loveliest and most fascinating specimen he’d encountered in all his years in Hell, and he wasn’t about to let that slip through his fingers.

Although it took him some time—longer than he would’ve liked to admit—he did eventually devise a plan to prove himself different from the men Angel most often dealt with, the ones who were only interested in him insofar as their lust could make use of his body. On an evening when the hotel’s operations were winding down, just after one of Charlie’s group therapy sessions, Alastor mustered his courage and approached Angel as he was on his way up to his room.

“Angel,” he called, striding confidently down the second floor corridor to meet him by the stairs. The playful smile that curved his lips put a stutter in the Radio Demon’s pulse, but he managed to push past it and asked in what he hoped was a calm, self-assured tone, “Do you have a moment?”

“I do for you, Red,” Angel answered, standing on one hip and batting his eyes. “Ya need somethin’?”

“I was wondering if you might like to…well, if you have some time, I thought we could—”

“Ooooh,” the pink spider cooed with great relish, his smile widening into a wicked grin. “Wouldja look at that, ya finally caved. I was beginnin’ to think you’d never get to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re lookin’ for summa my ‘time,’ right?” Angel took a step closer and draped his arms over Alastor’s shoulders, sending a chill of nervous excitement up his spine. “Usually when a guy says that, he only has one thing on his mind. Okay, maybe a few if he’s creative, and I bet you been thinkin’ about it a while.”

“Uh, I think you’re misunderstanding me,” Alastor said hastily, reaching up to remove Angel’s hands from his shoulders—only for a second pair to wrap around his waist and pull him closer.

“Aw, don’t be shy, honey; I won’t bite unless ya ask me to. I been dyin’ to hear what goes on in that messed up head a’ yours for weeks now. So let’s talk prices; whaddaya lookin’ for?”

“I’m not looking to buy anything.” Between Angel’s nearness and all his suggestive talk, Alastor was beginning to get a bit flustered, his face turning redder still as he tried to keep his thoughts straight.

“Well I’ll tell ya right now ya ain’t gettin’ much for free. Ya might be cute, and I guess ya got the spider thing goin’ for ya, but—”

“Angel.” Alastor used four of his hands to grasp Angel’s and remove them from his body, the last two holding the fluffy spider’s cheeks both to keep him from interrupting and so their eyes could meet. “I’m trying to ask you to dance.”

All the seduction disappeared from Angel’s face, and he tilted his head slightly to one side in confusion. “Like a lap dance, or…?”

Another chill rushed through Alastor as he hastily corrected, “Like a waltz. Or a foxtrot or a tango—I’m flexible. I mean dance _with_ me, not for me.”

“Just for fun?”

After a moment of hesitation, the Radio Demon agreed, “Yes, I suppose. I’m not planning to pay you for it, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re free to say no.” _And I’ll have to think of some other way of winning your interest._ “It’s just an offer if you want it.”

The fluffy spider took his hands back, fidgeting a bit as if, for once, he was the one getting nervous. “Why?”

Oh. Of all the different turns he’d anticipated this conversation taking, Alastor somehow hadn’t expected to be asked about his intentions so directly. But of course, he should have; he knew Angel to be fairly straightforward, with little tolerance for beating around the bush. Still, it wasn’t as if he could simply say aloud, _I’m inescapably fascinated (and possibly a bit obsessed) with you and will do whatever is necessary to make you mine_.

Instead, he forced an easygoing smile and answered, “I’d like us to get to know each other better, and I feel you can learn a lot about a person by sharing a dance. Besides, as much as you try to hide it, I’ve seen how graceful you are by nature. I’m sure you’re a natural on the dancefloor.”

That must have been an acceptable answer, as Angel smiled bashfully as he listened. “It’s been a minute, obviously,” he started, “but I guess I took a couple classes while I was, y’know, topside. Ya might hafta be a little patient with me, but I bet I could still pull off a waltz.”

“I’m sure it’ll come back to you quickly.” Alastor offered two of his arms, and Angel took them, still smiling, to follow him to the as yet unused ballroom at the end of the hall. Although Niffty had included it in her usual cleaning regimen, it was still a bit run-down, the curtains tattered, the chandelier dull and lightless. _Hardly the romantic atmosphere I was looking for._ With a wave of Alastor’s staff, the décor was restored to what must have been its former glory: gleaming hardwood floors, velvet drapes blocking the view of Pentagram City outside, warm yellow light sparkling through the chandelier’s thousand crystal facets. And, naturally, there was a radio on the room’s lone mahogany table, playing a soft tune for them to dance to. _Much better._

“Shit, Red,” Angel mumbled, holding his arms a little tighter. “Ya didn’t hafta go and make it all fancy. No way is my dancin’ gonna live up to all this.”

“Nonsense. Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.” Was it wrong that Angel’s shyness made him feel a bit more confident? He at least knew what he was doing in this respect, always had. After waving his staff away, he pulled his dance partner close, allowing them a moment to figure out exactly how their arms should correspond. Really, the numbers worked out perfectly, as he was able to support both pairs of Angel’s arms and still have a pair of hands free to rest on the fluffy spider’s slim waist. “You remember how it goes? One-two-three”—he counted as he started to lead, and Angel hesitantly followed—“four-five-six.” Alastor started to step back, while Angel did the same, causing them to stumble for a moment.

“Damn it,” Angel hissed under his breath, breaking away with an irritated huff.

“Relax, cher; we’ve only just started. Come back to me.”

Despite still visibly pouting, Angel did as asked, slightly rigid in his form but concentrating hard. This time, their box step went as intended: forward, side, together, back, side, together. And Angel’s frown eased slightly as they practiced it a few times more until the motion felt natural. They’d been going at half-time compared to the music, so Alastor sped things up now that they were used to it, and his partner followed along beautifully.

“You see? You’re doing fine. I knew you had it in you.” He realized too late that his word choice had set up an innuendo, but Angel’s response surprised him.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t gimme too much credit,” he said with a shrug. “You’re the one doin’ most a’ the work.” Surprising he hadn’t gone for the obvious sexual joke he could’ve made, but maybe he’d realized Alastor didn’t respond to them the way he would’ve liked.

They spent a few more minutes going over the basic assortment of moves, from turns to whisks to a basic dip, and once Angel was comfortable in his ability to follow along with Alastor’s guidance, they moved into an actual combination without pausing every few minutes to discuss it.

“May I ask why you took ballroom classes in the first place?” Alastor mused, giving his partner a twirl and then pulling him close again.

“Eh, my family used to have these big parties a lot. I mean, they were mostly just a front for my old man to do business, but we still played it up like it was real, with the dressed-up guests and the dinner and dancin’, all that frilly bullshit. My folks mighta given me a lotta grief over the years, but damned if they didn’t know how to throw a party.” Angel went quiet for a moment, lost in thought, then seemed to realize he might be saying too much and cleared his throat. “What about you? What makes a cannibal serial killer wanna learn how to foxtrot? Lemme guess, it was your way of lurin’ dames back to your place so you could carve ‘em up?”

Alastor forced out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I didn’t actually kill many women in my life, and certainly none who didn’t give me good reason. The dancing was just a hobby, honestly. I’ve always loved music, so it seemed like a good fit.” He sometimes missed the camaraderie and socialization found in a dancehall, especially now that he’d become someone others went far out of their way to avoid; it just wasn’t as easy to have a casual chat with anyone these days. Of course, most of the people in Hell weren’t the sort he wanted to befriend anyway.

“Ahem.” Angel leaned down the little that was necessary to catch his eye, letting him know he’d been quiet for too long. “You okay? Ya got a little distant there for a second.”

“I’m fine,” the Radio Demon answered without a second thought, performing another quick turn to take his partner’s mind off his momentary slip-up. Angel laughed and clung to him closer, causing his chest to flutter yet again. What was the matter with him? He shouldn’t be so intently hanging on every smile, every word from Angel Dust’s pink lips…yet there he was, and all he wanted was to get closer. “Those parties your family had. You enjoyed them?”

“Sure.” If Angel noticed Alastor holding him closer than strictly necessary for a waltz, he didn’t protest, his fingertips absently ghosting along the Radio Demon’s shoulder. “It was all fake as Hell, just this big elaborate game…but I guess I liked pretendin’ things were normal for a couple hours. Ya prob’ly already know my family was part a’ the mafia. ‘La cosa nostra,’ whatever the fuck ya wanna call it. I hated it. Ever since I was a kid.”

“Why is that?” Their dance had grown a little simpler, but the motion still gave them something to focus on, which he suspected was allowing Angel to continue talking about this without making an effort to reserve his feelings.

“’S just a shitty operation. The whole thing’s about takin’ advantage of people who can’t do anything to stop it, and if they do try to fight back, ya kill ‘em all just to remind everyone you can.” The disgust in Angel’s voice was palpable. “I coulda had it real easy, bein’ the youngest. Coulda been taken care of and gotten whatever I wanted if I was just willin’ to go along with my old man’s bullshit rules.”

“…I take it you weren’t.”

With a dry smile, the taller spider answered, “Nah. Tried for a while, but there was just too much of it I couldn’t get over. I got out as soon as I was old enough, ran off to the Bronx and…” He trailed off with a frown and cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, I’m kinda ramblin’ about a bunch a’ bullshit that’s way in the past now. Sure ya don’t wanna hear about any a’ that.”

“I do if you’d like to tell me,” Alastor insisted, and he meant every word. He considered learning about Angel’s past—especially when he was so reluctant to go into it most of the time—a privilege, a very unexpected admission of vulnerability. “If you’re comfortable talking about it, I’m happy to listen.”

“Why? ‘Cuz it’s ‘entertaining’?” The bitterness in Angel’s voice said this question could very easily be a tipping point one way or another; if Alastor answered wrong, the moment would be completely ruined, but if he answered correctly…

“No, Angel.” He brought their dance to an end, lowering the music a bit but not releasing his hold on Angel in the slightest. Looking up into his eyes, he said in earnest, “I told you, I want to know you better. I want us to be…closer, and I have for some time. Whether you realize it or not, I’m listening any time you speak to me, no matter what you have to say, no matter if you think it’s trivial. If it’s worth sharing to you, it’s worth hearing to me.” Despite the racing of his heart, despite knowing he was probably saying too much, he held eye contact while he lifted the hand that was still holding Angel’s up to his lips.

“Oh.” The pink spider’s cheeks flushed as Alastor kissed his fingers softly, hoping he was making his intentions clear enough. “Ya don’t hafta say all that if ya don’t mean it. I know a lotta the shit I say ain’t exactly profound.”

“And it doesn’t have to be. I enjoy it nevertheless. You should know by now that any time you request my attention, I’ll give it to you without hesitation.” He leaned in closer, raising his head, unable to keep his eyes from falling to Angel’s lips. Part of him feared he might be going too far, asking too much—but those fears quickly dissipated as Angel leaned down to accept his kiss, every bit as soft and warm as Alastor had imagined.

His arms tightened around his partner to hold him closer, and he slid his tongue between Angel’s lips to hear him whimper. Still, he didn’t protest, allowing his lips to part so Alastor could deepen the kiss and meeting him with no small amount of enthusiasm. And now his soft moans of pleasure slid directly from his tongue to Alastor’s, sending a hot chill through the Radio Demon’s core. The pair of hands that still rested on Angel’s waist slid down lower to grasp his hips and yank him closer, eliciting another sharp whimper; Alastor was surprised at how quickly his body and mind were responding now that he was finally getting what he’d wanted for so long, and he was eager to keep the object of his affections as close to him as possible.

Two of Angel’s hands had slid through Alastor’s hair to hold him closer, but they now used that grip to drag him away, driving a low growl from the Radio Demon’s lips from the brief pain. It wasn’t unpleasant, however, and it only made Alastor hungrier for more. Before he could suggest that they go elsewhere, however, Angel beat him to the punch: “Nice try, Red.”

“Wh-what?” Alastor asked, his smile slipping into confusion.

“It was a good effort. Prob’ly one a’ the best ones I’ve seen.” Prying Alastor’s hands away from his body, Angel took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair, glancing dispassionately around the room. “What with the ballroom and all, the dancin’, all that talk about my family ‘n’ shit. And then those last couple lines? Real smooth. Ya had me goin’ there for a minute.”

“I’m…not sure what you mean.” The Radio Demon was at a loss, unsure of why the mood had taken this abrupt and drastic downturn. The way Angel was moaning against his lips just moments ago, he’d thought things were going well, but judging by how icy his tone had become, something was off.

“I bet. ‘S actually kinda fucked up you’d go to all this trouble just to get in my pants, but I already toldja, ya ain’t gettin’ anything for free. I _should_ be chargin’ for that kiss, but I guess I was the one who did it.” He crossed his arms tightly, refusing to look anywhere near Alastor. “But it’s not happenin’ again. Ya want more than that, ya hafta pay like everybody else.”

“Is that all you think this was? A bid to get sex without paying for it?” Alastor asked, incredulous. After all the sincerity they had just shared, those moments of complete honesty, how could Angel possibly think it was just an act? It was a struggle to even think through the static buzzing and scratching through the air, and putting those thoughts into words was near impossible. “I meant everything I said to you, cher. Please believe me; I wasn’t trying to—”

“Can we not do this?” Angel snapped, his voice much sharper than expected. “I don’t have time for it and I ain’t in the mood to play games. If you’re not actually lookin’ to pay me back for my time, I got other shit I could be doin’ with it.” With an offhanded wave, he turned away and started toward the door with a sense of purpose he hadn’t had when they arrived, as if escaping this moment was his #1 priority.

“Angel, please!” Panicked, unsure of what else to do, Alastor rushed forward to grab his wrist—and an instant later, he found himself pinned back against the wall with Angel bearing down on him, a furious snarl marring his lovely features.

“Look,” he growled quietly, his voice low enough to stay between the two of them, his eyes reddened at the edges but still hard as ever, “I didn’t mean to give ya the wrong idea, but I ain’t into playin’ pretend anymore. Down here, I can’t afford to. You and I both know what I am and what I do, and there’s a reason I do it this way. It’s real simple. Are you tryna pay me for sex? _No?_ Then whatever the fuck else is on ya mind, keep it to yourself.” He shoved Alastor back against the wall and took a step back, tugging the ends of his jacket down to straighten them.

“Angel…” Alastor began one last time, though his voice and his conviction were both weakened. As he started to reach out, Angel jumped back to flee his touch, sending a pang through his chest.

“You better keep those goddamn hands off me unless you wanna lose ‘em!” he snarled, giving Alastor a glare so hard it was impossible to misread its intent. “Snap out of it already, Al. I ain’t fuckin’ here to play house.”

The Radio Demon had no choice but to remain very still where he was as Angel left the room and slammed the door behind him, hard enough to make the radio skip into indecipherable static and Alastor’s mind descend into utter chaos. What on Earth had happened? For a few minutes, he’d been absolutely delighted with the way things were going. He’d thought they were genuinely communicating and he had finally expressed his feelings—so notoriously difficult to verbalize—to Angel at long last. Yet at the moment he’d least expected it, the other spider had utterly rejected his interest, not only firmly but violently, leaving him alone and hopeless as to where he should go from here.

Maybe it was his own stupid fault. He hadn’t been clear enough in expressing what he wanted, so Angel had been left to draw his own conclusions. And he’d concluded that Alastor _was_ exactly like the scores of other men who had tried in their own devious ways to gain access to Angel’s body without giving anything in exchange. Did that make him even _worse_ than the ones who offered to pay? He could only imagine. With a furious, helpless growl, he slid to sit on the ground and slammed his head back against the wall behind him. _Idiot, idiot, idiot._ How could he have so monumentally ruined this opportunity?

It was that kiss, surely. Everything had been going well until he’d tried for any physical affection not offered by Angel himself. He should’ve been satisfied with the dance alone. He shouldn’t have expected any more. Yet he couldn’t deny that he desired Angel, body and mind and heart—and he would’ve thought that was a good thing! He’d thought Angel would _want_ a potential partner to be attracted to him in every possible way. But maybe that was the issue in itself: he’d been thinking of himself as a potential _partner_ , while Angel had only ever viewed him as being a client or…not a client.

He cursed quietly to himself in French, raking his bangs back out of his eyes. It was all too easy to assume he’d ruined whatever chance he might have had before, that he may as well give up and pretend this exchange had never happened. But god _damn_ him, he couldn’t bring himself to give up just like that. Not without a fight. Not without making absolutely certain that Angel understood his intentions. If, after he’d expressed himself explicitly, Angel still wasn’t interested, then fine. He would stand back and let his beautiful obsession walk away, no matter how viscerally it might wound him. But until then, until he knew without doubt that there was no longer any chance for him to win his heart’s desire, he would simply have to come up with another way to try.


End file.
